"Oh but you really should. Satisfaction is the enemy of innovation, Mister Holden. I think it to myself every time I find myself forced to dredge a hot bucket of water up a half dozen flights of stairs. But," she says, relenting by a degree which necessitates the gently re-organization of some of the papers before her lest she be mistaken for sentimental. "I will admit to being rather pleased with the familiarity of my pillow and blankets this morning. They are all of them very finely made."

She proceeds to unceremoniously jam the remainder of the toast slice into her mouth.